Page 22 of The Mobster’s Present

“You are not helpless,” his words are firm, “you never were. You taught our little girl how to fight what she couldn’t see and do it with a smile on her face and hope in her heart. Anyone who is helpless doesn’t do that.”

Before I can decide if I’m going to cry or laugh at the absurdity of this moment, Salvatore’s mouth comes down on mine. The kiss is gentle at first, coaxing, like he’s giving me the chance to forget. Even if it’s only for a moment.

When he deepens the kiss, every swipe of his tongue against mine is pure indulgence. He kisses me like I’m territory he’s already claimed and now he’s simply enjoying the celebratory feast.

He’s told me I’m his so many times that it’s starting to sound plausible, even to me.

My hands find his shoulders, and I grip the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer to me while knowing I can’t let this get too far. Not that I’m worried about Salvatore losing control, not when Oriana isn’t far away.

Just as he starts to slow the kiss down, I nip at his bottom lip. He growls against my mouth, and I swallow down the sound. As if punishing me, he kisses me harder.

It’s exactly what I need.

I cling to him, my body relaxing in the way it did last night when I was in his arms as my brain starts to wind down. It’s pure fucking bliss.

The problem is that it’s addicting.

And I’m not sure if I can trust it, even though I want to.

I’m a panting mess by the time he pulls away enough for us to breathe. But he doesn’t go far and rests his forehead against mine. “We’re going to get through this one day at a time. If it’s a good day, I’ll be there. If it’s a bad day, I’ll be there.”

My heart aches for his words to be true.

His hands run through my hair, the movement melding with the beat of his heart. I’m drifting toward sleep without meaning to. I’ve gotten used to sleeping poorly in this room.

“I’ve got you.” Salvatore’s voice sounds farther away, “I’ll keep watch.”

“I want to believe this is real,” I mumble the words, every one of them thick with the sleep pulling at me. “If it is, I could fall in love with you.”

Just as my breathing deepens, I swear I hear him murmur, “Good, because I already love you.”

CHAPTER 8

SALVATORE

It’s my second night in LA and I can see the exhaustion starting to pull Ashleigh down, and that’s with her allowing me to help her here and there. I can’t imagine how she used to run herself into the ground alone.

Oriana is a good kid, but she’s also three and is about at her wits end when it comes to spending most of her time in bed. I’ve been trying to find a balance of giving her space and being there for her.

I’m sure it doesn’t help that the room is small and now I’m another person occupying space in it. It’s an adjustment, but my girls are taking it in stride.

After meeting with the people who handle billing, everything is going to be taken care of. Ashleigh’s body sagged when she heard that, but I was right next to her to hold her steady.

While Oriana is taking a nap, I know now is the perfect opportunity to me to slip out with my woman for a moment. I need to get her into a real bed for a couple hours of sleep tonight.

Not only does she need it, but I’m on the verge of feral with how badly I need to sink my cock balls deep inside of Ashleigh’s tight pussy. I can almost feel her walls squeezing around me if I close my eyes and remember how good it felt.

I offer my hand to Ashleigh, and she slips hers into it without asking a single question. I’m not sure if she’s learning, or if she figures she has nothing to lose. I’ll tell myself it’s the learning option.

“Will you step out into the hallway with me for a moment?” I give her the choice and once she nods, I help her up and then head her out. The change in sounds and activity is jarring at first.

I don’t leave the area right outside Oriana’s temporary home.

A moment later a woman approaches us slowly, but there’s no fear on her face, just openness. “You must be Carlotta.” I nod at the woman who smiles softly as she glances at me but keeps her focus where it matters—on Ashleigh.

“Yes,” she extends her hands toward my woman first and I find I’m liking her more and more, “it’s lovely to meet you both.” Everything about her screams warm professional.

“I’m confused.” Ashleigh looks at me and then the middle-aged woman with a smile on her face and, probably, snacks in her bag.